


Forgiveness

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autism, Fluff and Angst, Injury, M/M, Meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: There’s fire everywhere and I can’t breathe and I can’t feel but I feel everything and it all hurts and everything hurts. It hurts it hurt it hurt it hurts.There’s blurs of lights and crashes of thunder and there’s so much pain in the air I can smell it and there’s a sea on my face and it stings.I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!Red. So much red! Like fire. Fire on my arms.There’s so much of everything and nothing at all! My throat is frozen and nobody is helping me!Nobody at all.





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> My main blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on Tumblr  
> Anon asked: can i req an autistic joger fic where one accidentally harms the other while having a meltdown and tries super hard to make it up to the other? kinda reflecting here, sorry

_There’s fire everywhere and I can’t breathe and I can’t feel but I feel everything and it all hurts and everything hurts. It hurts it hurt it hurt it hurts._

_There’s blurs of lights and crashes of thunder and there’s so much pain in the air I can smell it and there’s a sea on my face and it stings._

_I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!_

_Red. So much red! Like fire. Fire on my arms._

_There’s so much of everything and nothing at all! My throat is frozen and nobody is helping me!_

_Nobody at all._

♚

John took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he steeled his nerves. He let go of the puff of air, eye’s opening even though he wanted them to stay shut. 

Before him was a volcano. He first took in the screams that fell like ash around him. Deep guttural screams that were dark and clung to his skin, making it crawl. 

Next was the lava, slowly pooling onto the ground. Strands of blond littered the floor, burning into the carpet of their bed room, making an ever growing puddle around the volcano himself in the middle of it all.

Roger sputtered and shook, paced and thrashed. He squealed and howled as he threw the bedside lamp onto the floor, the glass shattering making John jump.

A fist pounded onto his chest, his red, tear streaked face letting out another wail. Before his mouth could close, it latched onto his scarred forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh with a chilling squelch. 

John had no idea what had happened. He didn’t know what triggered this. He’d went out to get some groceries, buying Roger his favorite brand of crisps and when he came back, all he heard was ear curdling chaos from upstairs. 

He thought he might have stepped on those crisps when he dropped everything to run to their room.

It was a sight he rarely ever saw. 

Of the two, John was more prone to melt downs. Roger for some reason was able to handle most things with nothing more than a smile. It was something John admired. It wasn’t something either of them were able to control, but John thought it must be nice to never lose control. 

Losing control every blue moon meant things built up, though. Roger’s meltdowns were intense and most of all, dangerous. 

There was blood smudged around Roger’s mouth, his arm trickling with some more. He didn’t notice. 

He had hair fibers all over him and a bald patch to show it. 

John bet that once this was all over and he was in the bath, he’d find bruises on his battered lover. 

But how to make it end was the question John had to deal with now. It wasn’t like he dealt with this often enough to consider himself an expert. Everyone’s meltdowns were different. The off switch was like a snowflake. 

Roger screeched, fists flying to his black and blue forehead, smacking against them. 

John had to act quickly. There was absolutely no letting this run it’s course. Roger was in pain. The thought made his stomach shrink.

“S-Sweetheart. Roger. Do you hear me?” John said, taking cautious steps closer to Roger. He didn’t want to startle him. He knew when he had a meltdown, every movement terrified him. He wondered if Roger was the same. 

♚

_Brain’s on fire. Burning. Burning. Smoke everywhere._

_I’m drowning. I can’t think I can’t see I can’t do anything._

_I hurt so bad. Everything is pain._

_I can’t stop myself._

_I’m not myself. I’m not myself._

_Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop_

♚

Roger didn’t notice John’s approach, yelling as he tore off the bedsheets and crumpled them to the floor. 

John swallowed hard. He’d never done this alone. He hoped he was strong enough. Physically and mentally. 

“Roger, please. Y-You need to calm down. I can help. We can go somewhere else. To the bathroom. You like the echoes, remember?” he said, skirting even closer to Roger. 

John knew during meltdowns, most people couldn’t process speech. And he wasn’t sure if sound was the reason for Roger’s meltdown. But what else could he do? He could only try to diffuse this. Before Roger would need stitches. 

Roger hunched over, arms wrapped around himself in a hug, sobbing so hard he gagged. John took this as the only opportunity he’d get to overpower Roger. 

He closed in, hands hooking around Roger’s waist. Maybe if he could drag him into another room, change the scenery, the environment, he’d start to settle down. Maybe.

But Roger was much stronger than John, Much stronger. 

His skin cringed before he ripped John’s arms away from him. The only thing John remembered was how Roger’s blue eyes looked so scared. So lost and confused. Like a little kid who’s just lost their parents in a store. 

He didn’t even notice Roger’s mouth latching onto his hand, ripping into the flesh of his palm until his brain caught up to what was happening. With a small gasp, he yanked his hand away, Roger’s saliva making the wound immediately start to sting. 

John stared down at his hand as Roger stalked off to continue going through possibly his worst meltdown.

To be honest, John wasn’t a fan of pain. 

To be honest, John didn’t know how to handle pain.

If we’re being honest, John panicked.

He walked stiffly into the master bathroom and locked himself inside. 

It was clear he didn’t know what to do. If anything, he agitated Roger more. He felt miserable for leaving Roger alone when he needed his help the most, but his brain froze. 

At least in the bath, he could still hear Roger. Make sure he was safe. That was all he could do and he felt horrible. 

It was an hour before things quieted down. John heard very soft crying and whimpering, and panting that eventually slowed. 

John opened the door just a crack and then all the way.

The pillows were torn at the seams, feathers coating the floor and bed. The bed was pushed off the bed frame. There was a hole in the wall by the door. And amongst it all was Roger curled up into a ball, face pressed into the carpet.

John crossed the room, making his presence known to the other as to not spook him.

With his hand throbbing, he knelt by the pile that was his boyfriend and said,

“Roger, honey. You’ve done so well. You’ve gotten yourself out of that so well. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you now,”

Roger shakily looked up, wet lashes and glassy eyes breaking John’s heart. John wiped away a tear and kissed his forehead gently.

♚

John poured a cup of warm water over Roger’s tender head as the blond sat in the tub, knees hugged to his chest. John hummed softly, massaging away the dried blood, kissing each bruise and washing every cut. It was all he could do. He kept thinking that.

“You can sleep after this, Rog. I’ll make you some dinner for when you wake up. Bought you your favorite crisps. You deserve them,” John said, making small talk as he scrubbed Roger’s back of all the sweat. The tub water was soapy and pink. 

He used his other hand to lean against the tub and it skidded over some soap. The open wound on his palm stung when it touched soap, causing John to pull back and hiss. He inspected it for a moment, knowing he’d have to go to the hospital eventually, but hid his hand, not wanting Roger to see it. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have to know.

But Roger was sharp. Even in this state. He snatched John’s hand into his own, pulling it close to himself. His words were still jumbled and coming back, but he was able to squeak, “Me?!”

John pulled his hand back, shaking his head. “No. Not at all,” he said, eyes falling towards the floor. He was a bad liar. Roger knew that. And he didn’t believe him. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, bruised forehead resting on his knees. He couldn’t hide the little cry that escaped his lips.

♚

“Does it hurt?” Roger asked as he held John’s hand, calloused fingers soothing down the wrinkled bandages. 

John shook his head, scooting closer to Roger on their bed. The sheets smelled like detergent. 

“Nope. The doctor cleaned it up, gave me a shot and bandaged it. Can barely feel it,” John said, his eyes crinkling into a smile. 

That was another lie. When John hurt, that’s all he could think about. But what good did it do to tell Roger? As long as he himself didn’t have a meltdown over this, it could be his little secret. 

It’d been a day since the incident. Roger was still recovering, barely able to leave the bed, so John joined him whenever he could.

“How are  _you_ feeling?” John asked, freeing his hand so he could brush some locks out of Roger’s face. 

Roger bit his lip, staying quiet for a moment. His mind raced with answers but he only said, “It doesn’t matter,” before resting his head against the new pillow, pulling the covers over his chin. 

John sighed. Roger wouldn’t let this go. He’d been apologizing all night and all day for the bite. He couldn’t get over what he’d done.

And although John didn’t hold an ounce of contempt for what happened, Roger kept beating himself up. He couldn’t be consoled. 

John slunk down so he was face to face with Roger.

“I always hurt people during my meltdowns. And I feel bad, but, I know I didn’t mean it. I..have to be kind to myself,” John said, reflecting on how sometimes he’d lunge at people unknowingly when he was in that state. 

“Yeah, but you’ve never left a mark. You slap like a girl,” Roger said, the last part a slip of the tongue. 

John would ignore the insult and continued.

“And? I’ve hurt the people I love. Whether it scars, it’s all the same, isn’t it? And they forgive me. You forgive me. Every single time. You say you’re not even mad. And that makes me feel so much better. So good. Like sunshine in my tummy. Why won’t you let me do that for you?” John said, a finger from his wounded hand stroking Roger’s still reddened cheek. 

Roger’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the touch. 

“I don’t deserve it.  _You_ ,” he said, leaning more and more into John’s hand.

 “You do,” John said, Roger’s warm breath tickling his nose. 

“I forgive you. Forever. For always. I love you, Rog,” John added, closing the gap between them with a soft kiss to the lips. 

Roger resisted at first but eventually melded against John’s plush unbruised lips. 

“I love you, Deacy,”

“I love you, Rog. And I don’t slap like a girl,”

“Shh, shh, we’re kissing,”


End file.
